Male god

Outside sash windows that shut too quickly,

Through courtyards, alleyways, backstreets

Bordered by facades, turned backs, passers-by

whose eyes are admirably steady,

who walk into more buildings, close more windows,

activate countless televisions,

Eat in succession and place forks in plates,

Cut their toenails, tap their dressers

With nothing on their minds,

Voice their concerns as complaints

Which no-one else can interpret as poetry

(Despite their interior sincerity),

Out of all of this, inside pavement-cracks,

On broad plains where horizons are closer,

Miles away from the city's clutch,

Where a forest is suddenly growing,

In a bower of darkness and doubt

That is eternally green,

slighter than sin,

Is a nearly forgotten god.